


Pillar

by Dark_K



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky is very protective of his kinda-son, Comedy, F/M, Fluff, M/M, POV Outsider, Protective Bucky Barnes, Stony - Freeform, bucky was found first, kind of crack-y, little bit of angst at the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 11:58:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15485268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_K/pseuds/Dark_K
Summary: They find James Barnes in the summer of 1977.Tony Stark is seven years old and impossibly smart, and it doesn’t occur to James to measure time in any other way than in relation to Tony because, let’s face it, Tony is one of the pillars upon which he rebuilt himself.





	Pillar

**Pillar**

They find James Barnes in the summer of 1977.

Tony Stark is seven years old and impossibly smart, and it doesn’t occur to James to measure time in any other way than in relation to Tony because, let’s face it, Tony is one of the pillars upon which he rebuilt himself.

With no proper memories, in the first few months, all he has to go on is whatever Howard tells him — of the war, of whatever shit he had pulled after that, his programming, his _de_ programming, and all the while, all throughout the time he’s been getting better and more closely resembling a human than a programmed killing machine, Tony is underfoot.

James clearly remembers that one of his first conscious, non-programmed, absolutely his own thoughts to be something along the lines of _Why is no one worried that there’s a kid in here with us_?

Turns out, no one worried a whole lot about Tony. They worried very much about the things he could break or tear apart, and James also remembers that the very first laugh he had after being deprogrammed was because Tony had torn apart a machine Howard was building.

As a punishment, Howard made him put it back together — and then it worked better than it had been until the kid took it apart.

It was a thing kid-Tony did, and that grown-up Tony never lost: taking things apart and then improving. James, it turns out, wasn’t an exception.

Tony asked and prodded and got into where he had no business being in. He asked difficult questions, he questioned him about his past, about how many times he had seen Peggy, if he had met Jarvis, how Captain America _really_ was, what it was like when he was programmed, if he remembered what it was like to obey with no feeling, if he thought he’d ever grow old, if Howard had always been a jerk, or if that was something only Tony ever brought out.

Tony was an exposed wound, and he was not ashamed of it, even as a kid. He could make you cry with ten words or less, taking you apart with snark alone, and then feel so much remorse for what he had done that he would attempt to harm himself in the most dangerous ways, because they were always subtle, at least until he got older.

At ten, James and Tony were friends. He was almost an older brother figure, around for the tough times, even if he had his own missions to work on, his own things to do. At fifteen, Tony was being groomed to become the next Stark in the line of succession, sent away for a college too big for his small shield against people, and there he found Rhodes, of whom James actually approved.

When Tony was sixteen, Howard found a business partner named Obadiah Stane, who seemed to try and fill up the role Howard had never done, that of a father. Something about the man’s oily voice and slithering demeanor put James on edge, but he was glad Tony finally had someone like that, since he couldn’t be it. He was, at the most, a door to keep things away until Tony was ready to face them. Stane proved to be a harbor, and James was a little calmer for it.

If there was one thing he, and Howard, and Stane always agreed on, however, was that Tony was being brought up to be a genius, an engineer, a scientist, a CEO: never a soldier. He wouldn’t have anything to do with SHIELD, even though he knew about it, he wouldn’t play spies, that was never supposed to be his role.

When Tony was seventeen, both his parents were killed in a car crash, and all he had to hold him together was James, and Rhodey, and Obadiah. It wasn’t enough — it wasn’t _nearly_ enough — but they managed, for the most part.

Tony still got drunk way too often, still risked himself more than he had to, but they were all used to it by then.

As Tony grew up, his and James’ friendship developed. At first, along all those early years, he had always been _James_ , a friend, an older brother, a secure figure in his life.

When he became an adult, twenty-one and CEO of his own company, making millions by the second and bored with everything because he was so much faster than everyone else, James became _Bucky_ , and his childhood companion became a friend.

After being a _thing_ rather than a _human_ for so long, Bucky wouldn’t dare complain about his life, but truth is that working for SHIELD _,_ and being their agent, wasn’t really all that was made out to be — he received orders, he accomplished his goals, he came home and cleaned his guns, and, every once in a while, he went to Tony for a tune up on his arm, which were getting more and more surreal the more the man tweaked it. But it’s not strange to Bucky that he measures his time in Tony-years, because Tony is the one thing that keeps changing on him — damaged and brilliant, a little reckless but loyal to those he cares about, Tony’s life is one Bucky had followed all of his new life, and so when something of notice happens to Tony, Bucky feels almost as if it had happened to him.

Like when Tony is kidnapped in Afghanistan.

Bucky remembers quite well what it felt like to fall from that train in Germany in 1944. It’s the very last memory he has of his old life, and he remembers every agonizing moment of it — and yet, the panic, the fear, the sheer _terror_ he feels when Tony doesn’t make it back, when Rhodes comes to ask for his help in searching, in the long nights the two of them share with Pepper, the three of them seemingly the only ones who never give up on the hope that Tony is still alive, those are even worse, for they don’t end with a crash into the ground and then an existence devoid of his presence for years to come: every second that Tony is gone is a second longer in which he could be tortured, or killed, or worse.

He’s so afraid during those two months that he can’t even remember how they made it through.

And then they find him — bruised and bloodied, in the middle of a crash site of his own creation, metal parts and explosives and blood everywhere — and if that isn’t a metaphor for _Tony_ , Bucky doesn’t now what is — but there.

They find him, they bring him back, but he’s not the same.

Rhodes tries to deny it. Pepper pretends she doesn’t see it, but Bucky knows — maybe he knows because when he looks into a mirror he sees the same sheer terror of going back, the fear of being taken away, the worry of being used again with no consent. Tony’s been through torture, through abuse, through more than Rhodes and Pepper have, and Bucky knows him better now, even better than before.

Iron Man is born and Rhodey freaks out, Pepper is so against it that Bucky predicts one or two years before she leaves for good, but he stays.

They had a plan, he and Howard, and Obadiah. They had a plan that Tony would never be a soldier, and because of his torture, Tony now has no escape _but_ become one.

He flies to New York to get Fury off Tony’s back — because Fury isn’t stupid, and he _knows_ the incident in the Gulmira is all Tony — and leaves Tony at home, in what he thinks it’s a safe position.

Then Obadiah happens, and it breaks Tony’s heart a little more than Bucky thought it would be possible.

It kills him that he’s not there for Tony — this man is his best friend, his little brother and his surrogate son, all rolled into one. He continues on working for SHIELD because Tony insists that he’s going to be fine now, really, he’s a _superhero_ , and that gets equal snorts from him, and Rhodes, and Pepper, but he believes Tony, because if he says he can do something, then he can. For Bucky, it’s as simple as that.

Then his calls start to come less and less, and he starts hearing strange things about his behavior, and Pepper calls him in a tizzy one night, and when he gets back to Malibu, Tony has, once again, gone into a battle without him because he wasn’t _there_. Tony was  dying, and that is the last drop for Bucky — he quits SHIELD, he moves to Malibu, and both he and Tony snob Fury’s invitation for his boy band, even though Tony is a consultant now.

Even if it hadn’t been for Tony almost dying, he would have quit anyway when SHIELD sent in _Natasha_ to assess Tony, and not him.

“Your vision on Stark is compromised, Barnes,” Fury tells him, and Bucky snarls a little bit, but Fury doesn’t even bat his eye, “I wouldn’t ask a father to give an assessment on his son, I’m not doing this now. You wouldn’t assess if he’s good for the team, or if he’d be successful as an Avenger, you’d assess if he’d be in danger, and what would be his odds of surviving before anything else.”

He doesn’t argue after that — especially because he knows Tony would do the same for him.

It’s what friends are for, and Tony is, all in all, his only friend.

There aren’t many people willing to associate themselves with the man who once killed civilians and military alike for the wrong side in whatever conflict they happened to be in, even if it was forty years ago. Even less people try to stick around when they realize that he is aging — but so much slower than anyone else that it can’t quite compare.

When Tony is forty, Bucky is ninety-three, and starting to look like he’s Tony’s own age. Tony doesn’t mind, because Bucky not aging much is a constant in his life, but other people do — other people tend to find him strange, and creepy, and unsettling, so he avoids other people, and keeps his life centered on the few people who don’t run from him, the weirdos like him, and that constitutes his circle of friendships: him, and Tony, and Rhodey and sometimes Pepper, even though she’s not very fond of him, because she thinks his company is what drives Tony into superhero territory, and he’s not about to correct her, because she makes Tony happy for now, so he won’t shatter her illusions about her boyfriend.

For all their contact, however, all that they share, and how close they are, there are a few things they never talk about. Howard, for one, because as much as Bucky and he worked together for many, many years, his respect for the man had diminished considerably by the time he died, leaving behind his broken son.

They also never, _ever_ talk about Steve.

Bucky doesn’t talk about him because it simply and purely _hurts_. When he had been deprogrammed, he had thought Steve would be the first in line to see him, and then he learned Steve had been dead for thirty-three years. He lost his best friend, but he accepted it, and he moved on as best as he could.

Howard never did, and the one topic he brought up the most, all his life, was his search for Captain America. Every school meeting he lost because he was away following a lead, every time he ignored Tony in favor of perfecting some tracking tech that could, possibly, maybe find some trace of the plane that Steve went down in, every time he took all of Tony’s brilliance for granted and instead chose to reminisce about the good old days of him and Captain America in the war, all those times broke a little piece of Tony’s self-respect, of his sense of worth, of his certainty that his father loved him.

It wasn’t on purpose — Bucky, as an adult, knew this, but Tony, as a child, no matter how smart, didn’t, and it was a sore point for him that his father loved a dead guy more than he loved his son or his wife.

So Steve and Howard are a big no-no, but everything else is fair play. They are good friends, they talk about everything, and once Bucky is out of SHIELD and into Malibu, closer to Tony than ever, things are good. As good as they could get, and as best as they have been for them in a long, long time.

That’s when SHIELD finally finds Steve.

**X**

They want to set him up in an old room, with old time games playing in the background and make him believe he’s still in the 40’s.

“You do realize this guy is not stupid, right?” Tony tells them, eying them over his glasses, just so Bucky won’t have to.

He had once been smooth and a good talker, but he finds that he lost his taste for these things as time went by — why run circles when you can face them straight on?

They don’t listen to Tony, they don’t listen to him, and it all ends up with Fury himself chasing Steve down Times Square, and Bucky would laugh in their faces if he weren’t so concerned about Steve’s mental health.

Tony, however, has no such concerns, and laughs anyway.

Bucky is torn when he hears the news about Steve — on the one hand, he wants to be there for his friend. He knows quite well how unsettling it is to wake up in the future, and he didn’t have to cope with _half_ the stuff Steve will have to. Internet, and computers and how fast technology works nowadays, everything is a mess, and if you were not there to follow it along, or invent it, then you were bound to be left behind. On the other, he doesn’t want to leave Tony, because every time he does, shit happens, and he’s getting tired of never being around when Tony needs a hand.

As always, Tony solves the problem by temporarily moving them into his New York tower, where he’s trying to finish up his project on sustainable energy using the arc reactor tech. This way, Bucky can be around both Steve and Tony and not feel guilty.

His heart seems like it’s going to beat its way out of his chest when he gets to Steve’s room at SHIELD — and that’s not the best place to live, but it’s better than most of the places where they had lived before, and he’s sure Steve isn’t complaining.

They told him, Fury warns him. They told Steve he had been found, and that he has been working with them for a few decades, but Steve’s eyes still fill with tears when he sees Bucky coming in, hands trembling, and he looks ready to break.

“Buck…” he whispers brokenly, and Bucky does what he thinks Steve needs, he holds him, like when they were young and Steve was half his size, and he was able to envelop him with a single arm.

It takes Steve a little while to get over the fact that Bucky is alive. It takes him a little longer to realize that he _himself_ is alive, however, because he keeps refusing to join the rest of the world, and ends up moping and punching bags, and all kinds of things that are psychologically unhealthy and everyone says you shouldn’t do, but Bucky can’t blame him — he would have been the same if he didn’t have Howard and Peggy back then. Soon, Howard and Peggy became Tony and Jarvis, and then just Tony, but he had an anchor, something to hold onto when he came back, and even if they were older, they were still the same.

Steve doesn’t really have that, and Bucky isn’t sure he’s helping when he’s around.

Howard is dead, and so are the rest of the Howling Commandos. Peggy is still alive, but she’s fading, and sick, and they don’t know if it would be a good idea to bring Steve to see her when she’s in such a fragile state. It seems to Bucky that Tony would be the most helpful here, but he can’t ask that of Tony — he won’t hurt him to save Steve, just as he wouldn’t do the opposite. So he frets. A lot.

In between going to Steve almost daily, trying to get him to leave the gym and do something else — which Steve refuses, on the basis that New York isn’t the same and he isn’t ready yet — and hanging out with Tony as he’s working on his new tower, Bucky feels less like the assassin, super agent he is know for being and more like a babysitter, but he’s not going to complain.

Little by little, he manages to get Steve out.

They don’t venture into Brooklyn yet, but he manages to take Steve to a little café, not too far from Stark Tower, expecting to ignite Steve’s sense of belonging to this world — and maybe find a way to start showing him that Tony is a great guy and they should all be friends.

It backfires when Steve starts complaining — quite loudly — about how much New York’s skyline has changed, and how ugly and unrefined the new buildings are, all the while pointing at Star Tower, Tony’s pride and joy of the week.

Bucky quietly sighs, and resigns himself to the fact that the two most important people in his life aren’t ready to get acquainted yet, and so he doesn’t really tell Steve about his connection to Tony.

He doesn’t lie, he just doesn’t talk about it. Hopefully, in the upcoming months, he’ll be able to get them together, get them to talk, and just generally make his life easier.

And then aliens invade Manhattan, and Bucky runs out of time.

**X**

“You never mentioned he was that much of a dick,” are Tony’s first words when they are done saving the Earth from aliens falling from the sky, and they are, more or less, alone in the Tower. Pepper hasn’t come back from Washington yet, so it _should_ be just them, but the headquarters where Steve had been living in got destroyed in the fight, and Natasha didn’t feel like going back to SHIELD yet, and Clint didn’t want to be alone, and God knows Banner couldn’t be trusted to not disappear if left to his own devices, so Fury had more or less tricked him and Tony into taking all the non-Godly Avengers to Tony’s tower.

They are on Tony’s personal floor, however, the others in the one below it, so Bucky thinks they’re safe.

“He’s not a dick,” he tries to reason, but Tony scoffs, throwing himself on a stool, as Bucky searches the kitchen for food — even after the shawarma, he’s still hungry.

“I’m sorry, did you not _hear him_ talking to me? Is that how you talk to people the second you meet them?”

“Like you were any better.”

“I was _trying_ ,” he says, eyes straightening, and Bucky looks up from where he’s digging through the low cupboards, and raises an eyebrow at him.

“I know that, but, for most people, you _trying_ sounds like you trying to get on every single nerve they have.”

“I’m an acquired taste,” it’s Tony’s reply, and Bucky snorts, coming back from his hunt with two packs of Oreos, which he sets on the table.

“Don’t I know it.”

“Shut up.”

“Wow, so smart, I can see why people keep calling you genius. No wait, it’s genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, right?”

That earns him a glare as Tony stuffs his mouth with Oreos and doesn’t deign him with an actual response for a few seconds, as they eat in silence.

“I just don’t like it when people bring up… you know.”

“I know. But he didn’t do it on purpose. He didn’t know Howard like we did,” Bucky tells him, and it seems to pacify Tony for a little while at least.

“Why are you here, anyway?” Tony asks, his voice trying for snark, but missing just a bit on the side of insecure, “Don’t you want to be with your super pal, we toured Europe together, bestest friend in the whole world?”

“Sure, call World War II _a tour of Europe_ , why don’t you?”

“Oh my god.”

“If it weren’t for _my generation_ fighting back then, young man—”

“ _Oh my god,_ ” Tony’s voice is exasperated and he’s almost laughing again, and that is all Bucky could ask for at this point.

“We fought like the best of them! No phones to help us out, no tech—”

“Oh, please, shut up, I will _never_ mention your tour of Europe again if you stop now.”

“Thank you,” Bucky says, laughing quietly, as Tony shakes his head, a smile on his face, “I’m not going to prioritize him over you, you know,” he adds after a few seconds, because he _knows_ deep down, that half of Tony’s aggression can be put down on him being him and Steve being Steve, but the other half… “You have your own space. I’m not going to push you out so Steve can have a place too.”

That gets a deep sigh out of Tony, who runs a hand over his face before responding.

“I’d get it if you did,” he adds softly, looking like every word is costing him a year out of his life, “He needs you, with the whole defrosting thing.”

“I think we had this very same conversation when you were about twelve, and I’m nowhere as good as Jarvis in saying this, but people aren’t like computers, where you have to clear space for new things from time to time,” Bucky answers him, exasperation and fondness warring in his tone.

“I took care of that anyway. Nothing of mine gets deleted, _ever_ ,” Tony replies, making Bucky roll his eyes, knowing that the message was received, even though Tony would never actually voice his concerns out loud.

“Hey,” comes a greeting from the door, and both men startle slightly.

“Security breach!” Tony says out of habit, making Bucky snort, as they watch Natasha and Steve enter the room slowly.

“Natalie,” Bucky greets, and then it’s her turn to roll her eyes.

“Cap was looking for you. As I’m familiar with the layout…” she trails off, and Tony snorts.

“You mean, when you were spying on me, did you take a look at the schematics for the building I was planning, why, what a kind way to word it, Miss Rushman,” Tony snarks at her, and Natasha turns to leave.

“I can come back later…” Steve says, eying the cookies on the counter and the two men sitting across from each other, and Bucky wants to hit his head against a wall for the way he sounds as if he doesn’t belong here, but he’s saved from it by Jarvis’s voice.

“Sir, you’ve asked to inform you when Miss Potts arrived, she has just entered the building,” the AI informs Tony, who gets up with a shout of _Pepper!_ and leaves without saying anything to either of them.

Steve hovers at the door, and Bucky motions him to come in and take a seat, offering him a cookie. Maybe that will calm him down a bit.

The man does take a seat, though, even if he doesn’t accept the offer for food, and Bucky shrugs, still eating slowly.

“You didn’t tell— Uhm, I didn’t know you and Stark were friends,” the blond starts, and Bucky huffs a small laugh.

“We’re way more than friends,” he tells him, only to see Steve’s eyes widen and a blush cover his whole face and neck, “Oh dear lord, not like _that_ , Christ, that’s gross! I mean to say that, well, they found me when Tony was seven, Stevie. I practically raised that kid.”

“Kid?” Steve repeats, with a small smile, and Bucky shrugs.

“I can still remember him tearing his house apart in underpants on Christmas mornings, I get to call him kid.”

Steve swallows dryly at that.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” his voice is quiet and the tiniest bit hurt, making Bucky sigh.

“About Tony?” When Steve nods, Bucky takes a deep breath, “Look, you’re kind of a sore spot for Tony. Always have been. I wanted to give you time to acclimate yourself with the world before introducing the two of you, because, let’s face it, Tony looks _a lot_ like Howard, and I knew you’d bring him up at some point, and things would go to shit. Like they did,” he adds, and Steve frowns at that, “I was going to tell you when you were having an easier time with the present, but then… aliens,” he finishes with a shrug.

“What’s so bad about bringing up Howard, though?” Steve asks, clearly not ready to let this go, because this is _Steve_ and he never lets anything go.

“You know they say we should never speak ill of the dead? Well, Howard might be the exception. When they found me, he was already married, and he had Tony, and just… He was _bad_ at fatherhood, Steve. You have no idea how bad. I don’t think he did it on purpose, but the result is the same. I and Peggy and Jarvis, we tried to be around for the kid, but we weren’t his dad or his mom, and the damage he caused never went away. He never beat Tony, or anything like that, but I think sometimes Tony almost wished that he would, just so he would pay him any kind of attention at all. People like Howard shouldn’t have kids. I’m glad he had Tony, because I don’t know what my life would be without him around, but Howard was not cut out to be a father, let’s leave it at that.”

“So, you were around all of them, then?”

“For some of it,” he tells him, voice calm, because he knows Steve may be finally able to talk about their friends now, “There’s a gap of about thirty years in there, where I was, you know, HYDRA,” he says carefully, but Steve only nods, understanding, “And then they found me, and I started working for SHIELD, but, when I could, I was around. Tony was seven, and Howard was always busy, and Maria was always away with him, so… I just tried to be around him.”

“What about Peggy?” Steve’s voice is small when he asks that, because Bucky _knows_ he’s had files on everyone, every single one of them, for weeks now, but he doesn’t think Steve took a look for longer than a second at any of them.

Maybe it’s because when _he_ came out of his own freezer, he was ready to stop being a killing machine, and ready to embrace being a human, or maybe it’s just that, for Steve, 1944 was a couple of weeks ago, and he’s having a much harder time accepting that everyone he knows, everyone he was friends with, is either gone or changed or moved on, and that’s a lot to take in.

“She was already married when I came back. She helped found SHIELD, you know, both her and Howard.”

“Did she help out with Tony?” his voice is curious now, and Bucky smiles softly.

“Some. She had her own kids, though, and SHIELD, and a husband, and many things going on. She was good friends with Jarvis, though.”

“The robot-voice?” Steve asks, his voice a bit incredulous, and Bucky laughs at that.

“No, the real one, the butler that pretty much raised Tony. They were friends, and sometimes she came around. But from a certain point on, it just became so _hard_ being around Howard,” he stops, sighing loudly, “He changed so much, Steve, you have no idea. It’s like his company, and his efforts for science and for the future, it all became so much that he forgot real people were still living in his present — his son included. You know, he saved Tony’s life last year,” he doesn’t know what makes him say this, because this is a secret that Tony has tried to keep to himself for as long as he could, but he wants Steve to understand that the guy isn’t bad — he’s just bad with people, “The thing in his heart, it was killing him, and Howard managed to leave behind a way for him to fix it, which he couldn’t achieve because he was limited by the tech he had back then. He saved his son’s life decades in the future, but he couldn’t take five seconds every once in a while to _be there_ for Tony.”

“I understand that,” Steve starts slowly, “I understand now that Stark would have resentment, but why me? Why would I be a sore spot? I’m just trying to understand so we can work together better,” he explains when Bucky looks as if he’s about to refuse, but Steve is right. At some point, he’ll have to know why Tony may not ever come to like or accept him, so he might as well save both his friends the trouble and get it over with.

“Because more often than not, when Howard wasn’t around, it was because he was looking for you. He never stopped.”

Steve is quiet at that, but Bucky does notice that, in the days that follow, he goes through every single file SHIELD had given him about his old friends, and his new teammates. He reads, and tries to understand, and carefully avoid mentioning Howard around Tony, even going as far as avoiding Tony altogether sometimes, so the man wouldn’t be aggravated by him.

It’s not what Bucky wanted for the two of them — few things on the Earth would make him happier than seeing his two best friends be friends with each other — but there’s a certain cease-hostilities that he can’t help but be glad for.

It’s good enough for now.

**X**

Pepper dumps Tony about two hours after the second time the Avengers have to get together to defeat a super villain. By then, they are all officially living in the Avengers Tower, everyone has their own space and a common training space and common room for bonding, and they all have their own little dynamics among themselves — it works out so well that Bucky can almost call themselves a team.

They have to fight again because people don’t get the warning that if they can defeat a super alien Army commanded by a _god_ , they surely can face a scientist with too much access to explosives and AI, but it’s good press, because they win — and this time, almost nothing in New York gets destroyed in the process.

Except for Tony’s relationship, that is.

They are in the common room watching their fight again so they can visualize their mistakes — or in Bruce’s case, to assess how much damage he’s caused (which is surprisingly little) — when Tony walks back in from where he had disappeared to as soon as Pepper had showed up. He looks like death warmed over, and when he goes straight for a bottle of vodka, not even bothering with a glass, Bucky knows he was right, and Pepper left him, just like Bucky called it when they got together.

“You’re not drinking that whole thing,” he tells Tony in a firm voice, and the rest of their team try to pretend like they aren’t actually watching them like hawks — they know they are friends, and they know he’s seen Tony grow up, but they rarely _see_ this with their own eyes, because most of the time, Tony is a grown up about things, even if people think he’s not, and Bucky actually looks a little younger than him, which makes people forget that he is actually the closest thing to a father-figure Tony has had in his life since Obadiah’s betrayal.

“Bite me,” is Tony’s very mature answer, but he does take a seat beside Bucky on the couch, where the bottle is at his reach if he feels inclined to take it from him, “She says she can’t handle this, the me putting myself in danger thing.”

Everyone is quiet at that, because Tony is never really open about his things — he talks and talks, but never about the things that really matter. Maybe he’s finally coming to terms with the fact that the people in this room actually care about him, or he’s just so sad he’s past caring. Bucky hopes it’s the first, but knows chances are it’s the second, “I don’t get it,” a bit of frustration starts creeping in his voice, his eyes burning in what Bucky knows as anger and sadness mixed together, “She knew I was going to do this, she didn’t have a problem with it when I was doing this by myself. Now there’s a whole _team_ of people who are better than me having my back, and she flips out and leaves,” he takes a big drink from the bottle, drying his mouth with the back of his hand, “I don’t get it.”

“She was never okay with this, Tony,” Bucky starts, voice calm but firm, completely devoid of pity, because he knows it’d just set Tony off, “She dealt with it because she had to, and she hoped, maybe, if there was a whole team, you’d give support in tech and money and maybe in your consultant gig, but not as a part of the whole thing. She hoped you’d pull back, not dive right in. Deep down, you know that.”

“You knew this was going to happen,” the man mutters, almost accusingly, and Bucky can only shrug, because yeah, he did. He also didn’t think that Tony loved Pepper all that much — he just thought he couldn’t function without her, and that wasn’t fair to either of them.

“I hoped it wouldn’t come to this,” he tells Tony with honesty, and his friend sighs, taking another long swig from the bottle, “It’s gonna be okay,” he tells Tony in a quiet voice, and hears him muttering _Yeah, right_ , but he ignores it. Tony settles against the couch, and Bucky slowly puts a hand on his shoulder squeezing it briefly and leaving it there for support.

When Tony falls asleep about forty minutes later, his head falling to the side and on Bucky’s shoulder, he glares around the room, daring any of the others to say anything about it, but no one does.

Steve stares at them with a pensive look on his face, and smiles tiredly at Bucky when he realizes he’s been noticed.

It’s as good as Bucky can hope for.

**X**

Tony throws himself into his work like he does every time things go wrong in his life — Pepper is still CEO, and she calls Bucky once every two days to check up on Tony. It’s strange, because she seems to like him better now that she’s not dating Tony than she did before, but Bucky figures it’s because she’s always known he didn’t really believe in their relationship lasting.

With the team, things are going better than ever — they train and take part in fund raising events, and do press junkets. They talk and eat together a couple of times a week, and there’s always someone around.

Little by little, life gets less crazy in the Tower, which is the opposite of what Bucky thought would happen when they all moved in, but there you go.

He still splits his time evenly between his own things and Steve and Tony, and the other two actually start talking normally — Steve starts to understand that Tony isn’t trying to make him feel inferior when he talks, and Tony learns that Steve does not think he’s less than the rest of the team because he’s essentially a civilian.

Bucky doesn’t think they’ll be best friends any time soon, because they don’t have the temperament for it — even on their best days, they drive each other crazy — but they get along, work well together, and make Bucky’s life easier.

Then Steve gets a girlfriend.

**X**

The only reason the team finds out is because Natasha teases Steve about a hickey — which he shouldn’t even get, so the woman must have _really_ worked on it for it to remain for a couple of hours —, and the only way Natasha even knows is because she was awake when Steve came up the night before.

Bucky is immediately on alert, because if there’s one thing on this earth that Steve is bad at is women.

He tries to get his friend to talk to him about it, but Steve is playing it close to his chest this time — whoever this is, they are important to Steve, so Bucky tries to respect his wishes and let it go, but he still worries.

Tony, of course, notices.

“Why are you so worried, anyway? Cap’s a big boy, Buck. He can deal with a relationship, or a one night stand or whatever it is he’s having.”

“That’s the thing, though, I don’t think he can.”

Tony frowns at him, looking disproportionately concerned.

“Why do you think that?”

Bucky runs a hand over his hair, sighing a bit.

“The guy just got out of the ice. For him, the 40’s was months ago. I worry that whoever is with him now won’t… _get it_ , you know? That’s not easy, what he’s going through. It was hell back when I woke up, and I had 30 years less of crap to deal with.”

Tony hums contemplatively, fiddling with something or other on his tablet as they talk.

“What helped you back then?”

Bucky smiles then.

“You.”

Tony looks up, shocked, but smiling back.

“Your dad and Peggy — they were in the war with us, sure they got that part of it, but you helped ease me in the future. I feel like I watched you grow up and figure the world out, and you took me with you, and so I learned about the world too. It helped.”

Bucky hesitates for a few seconds, he knows what he’s going to ask is a bit like crossing a line, but he can’t help it. Not this time.

“Could you… help him out if he needs it? I don’t think he’d ask me for anything, he feels so guilty about not going back for me, about the whole thing, and he needs someone like that, someone to show him that the future is worth living, you know? If it doesn’t freak you out,” he adds, turning back at Tony and not talking until the other man is actually looking at him, “Could you help him out? Show him the future?”

The smile Tony sends him is a strange one — there’s guilt there. A little bit of amusement. But mostly, Tony looks content.

“Sure thing, Buck.”

**X**

In a lot of ways, Tony has always reminded Bucky of Steve, when he was growing up — always getting into things he had no business being in, always trying to fight something or someone bigger than he could handle and hoping for the best.

Also, always causing him trouble, and making him question his own sanity.

Why he expected things to go any different than they do, he’ll never know.

**X**

It’s a loud groan in the corridor that grabs Bucky’s attention and he stops, trying to identify where it came from — another cut off sound and Bucky is racing into the dark corridor: he’d know Tony’s voice anywhere, and that is definitely Tony, probably hurt or in pain, maybe he’d been drinking again, and he’d been doing so well lately, Bucky thinks, as he jogs towards the sound.

“JARVIS, lights!” he asks, and then he wishes he hadn’t.

For a second, a split second, he actually understands what Tony means when he says sometimes his brain is rebooting, because that is _exactly_ what Bucky’s brain is doing right now: it’s rebooting, because the image in front of him just does not compute.

Tony is pinned against the wall.

Steve is the one holding him there.

For that second it takes for Bucky to _understand_ what he’s seeing, he wildly thinks, oh my God, they’re fighting — but they can’t be.

They can’t be because Tony’s shirt is halfway off, and there’s a freaking hickey on his neck — still red, probably going purple in the next few hours.

Also, Steve’s pants are undone.

Well, at least Tony wasn’t in pain.

The other two are frozen on the spot as he stares, and then he gets on with the program, and he’s absolutely _furious_.

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HIM!”

Steve and Tony jump apart, and Tony actually cringes when Bucky advances on them, pulling Tony behind him.

“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS? HE’S A THIRD OF YOUR AGE!”

Steve looks confused as hell, and Tony makes a sound that can only be described as a _meep_ from behind him.

“The fuck, Bucky? I’m older than him!”

“You shut the fuck up, I’ll get on your case later,” he growls at Tony, still shielding him from Steve, “And you!” he turns back to the man he considered his best friend, “For fuck’s sake, close your pants! What are you doing, grabbing Tony like that? What about the girl you were seeing?”

His voice is still angry and he _is_ angry — how _dare_ Steve do this to the guy who’s basically Bucky’s son??

“I’m the girl he’s seeing!” Tony shouts from behind him, trying to get past, but Bucky turns to him again, straightening his eyes.

“How long has this been going on?”

Tony has the decency of looking apologetic, and he tries to look at Steve, but Bucky moves, blocking the view, eyebrow raised, and crossing his arms.

“I asked _you_ a question, Anthony Edward Stark, and I expect a truthful answer.”

The other man seems to deflate at that.

“About two months,” he answers quietly.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” he can’t help but let a little bit of hurt show in his voice, because he is Steve’s best friend, sure, but Tony is his… everything. His best friend, and little brother and son, all rolled into one.

“Because we didn’t want to needlessly freak you out in case this didn’t work.”

“Why would you think I’d freak out?!” he demands, and Tony raises an eyebrow back at him.

“Yeah, because you’re taking this so well right now.”

“I’m freaking out because I heard you groaning and I thought you were in pain! Then I come to check on you, and find out that my best friend is molesting you!”

“It’s not like that!” Tony protests at the same time as Steve starts talking.

“Bucky, we—”

“You,” he starts, pointing at Steve with what he hopes is a glare and not a murder promise, “shut up. I’ll deal with you in a second.” Then he turns back to Tony, “You, go to your room! I’ll be by later so we can talk about this.”

“You can’t send me to my room!” Tony protests, looking deeply offended, which only serves to make Bucky even more determined.

“I’ve known you since you were seven, if I send you to your room, you go to your room, because I have access to things even the paparazzi haven’t heard of yet, and I’m quite sure you don’t want pictures of the Halloween of 77 going around the internet, do you?” he threatens quietly, enjoying the way Tony’s eyes widen and he practically _vanishes_ from the corridor.

That leaves him and Steve, who looks remorseful and just a little bit afraid.

“Why did you hide this from me?” he asks, and this time his voice isn’t angry, it’s disappointed.

Steve looks down with a small shrug, trying to pretend like he isn’t over 6 feet and built like a brick house.

“Tony thought you might get defensive.”

“Of _course_ I’d get defensive! I saw that kid grow up, Steve, and you were necking with him!”

“Not of _him_ , Buck,” Steve tells him quietly, finally able to look him in the eye, “Of _me_. He was afraid you’d get mad at him, so he asked me to keep it quiet until we could be sure we wouldn’t, you know, not work out.”

Bucky closes his eyes briefly, praying the deities for patience.

“That’s because he’s an idiot. And so are you. God help me, but you might actually be good for each other.”

 Steve gives him a small smile, looking grateful.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he answers, smiling back, and then goes in for a quick hug.

“Stevie,” he says, as they pull apart, leaving one of his hands on Steve’s shoulder, “If you hurt him, I’ll put all the training both HYDRA and SHIELD put me through to good use, and no one will ever find your body.”

He claps Steve on the back one more time, smiling at the man, who’s staring at him with wide eyes, and then goes after Tony, to set the record straight.

**X**

There are pictures of Tony dressed up as Captain America in a Halloween costume making the rounds in all kinds of social media about a month after the corridor thing went down.

Tony glares at him that morning, as Steve tries very hard not to laugh.

“Next time you think about doing something that could get you killed in the field, remember I have about thirty years of material on you, kid,” he tells the man as he leaves the kitchen, ruffling Tony’s hair as he leaves.

The rest of the team laughs easily, and then he turns to Steve.

“I’m still watching you, Rogers.”

Steve goes a bit pale but nods at him, smiling fondly at Tony when the man bumps into him.

Bucky sighs.

This is not how he wanted his life to go, but there are worse things.

At least they aren’t fighting, and that’s good enough.

**Author's Note:**

> [Come say hello and freak out about Marvel destroying my sanity.](http://darkjan.tumblr.com/)


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